


Confessions

by QueenThayet



Series: Adaptation AU [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: inceptiversary, Confessions, First Dates, Flirting, Inception Bingo, M/M, visible emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11615487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/pseuds/QueenThayet
Summary: Arthur goes on a date with Eames and tells (and shows) him how he feels.





	Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone, especially Amy, for helping me come up with the word I wanted to use in one line of dialogue. And thank you to everyone following along with this story! I promise, there's sex in the next one!

Somehow, Arthur found himself at a restaurant, without his gloves, with a colleague. Even more surprising, or perhaps not at all surprising, that colleague was Eames. 

And it was... pleasant? No, Arthur glanced down at his hands; they still had a purple background with bursts of pink showing up. He seemed to be happy. He smiled up at Eames who had been staring at Arthur’s hands. Eames met Arthur’s eyes guiltily. 

“I’m sorry, pet, I just can’t get over how gorgeous it is.”

Arthur blushed. “It’s okay, you can look. That’s why I left the gloves off.” 

“Can I ask you about it?”

“Sure. But I might choose not to answer.” Arthur noticed lines of orange shooting across his skin, reflecting his nerves. He’d never really talked to anyone other than his family about his adaptation. He’d always been embarrassed by it. Certainly he’d never discussed it casually over dinner with a colleague, or potential--. Arthur slammed his mind down on that thought quickly, even as he knew that yellow hope was covering his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see what Eames thought of his frenzy of emotions. 

“Fair enough,” Eames responded calmly, as if he hadn’t even noticed the riot of clashing colors covering Arthur’s skin. Arthur opened his eyes again, waiting for Eames to ask his first question. 

“So your skin changes colors in response to your emotions?” Eames asked. 

“Yes,” Arthur responded. 

“Is it random or do certain colors mean certain emotions?”

“Colors and emotions are linked, I think.” 

“You think?” Eames asked, clearly confused. 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like it came with an instruction manual or translation guide. It seems like there is consistency between colors and emotions, but a lot of that depends on me being able to accurately name my own emotions,” Arthur snapped. His skin shifted from purple to the bright blue of frustration. 

“Easy, pet,” Eames said holding his hands up. “I wasn’t criticizing.” 

Arthur took a deep calming breath, willing himself back to neutrality. 

“Sorry, it’s just frustrating for me. I’m not great with emotions, if you hadn’t guessed.”

“You’re certainly not the only one, darling,” Eames reassured him. 

“Just the only one that everyone can see having an emotional breakdown,” Arthur said bitterly.  
“Arthur, this is clearly – and I say that because of your words and your tone, not your skin color – upsetting you. I’m very sorry, let’s talk about something else.”

Arthur took another breath. He didn’t want to shut Eames down. He didn’t want to scare him off, either. Of course, it didn’t seem like Eames was scared, just, concerned about Arthur’s well being. Or happiness even. 

“No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s hard to talk about, but it’s good to, I think, with you at least,” Arthur blathered. He knew if he looked down, his hands would be a riot of colors. He didn’t look down. 

“Why with me?” Eames asked. 

“People used to call me ‘the iceman,’ did you know that?” Arthur said, in an apparent non sequitur. 

“I had heard that, but I could never countenance it,” Eames said, easily going with Arthur’s conversational jumps.

“Because my skin used to look ice blue most of the time,” Arthur said. 

“Interesting, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen it that color,” Eames responded. “It’s usually some shade of purple or lavender, or sometimes pink.” 

Arthur took another breath, steadying himself. 

“Yeah, that would be your effect.”

“My effect?”

“Yes, so, my skin is colored by my emotions. And ice blue is the color when I’m furious and trying not to explode.”

“I thought that was basically all the time,” Eames smirked slightly. 

“Hence ‘the iceman’,” Arthur smirked back. 

“But that doesn’t explain why I’ve never seen you that color.”

“Ah yes, so, when I’m around you, I don’t feel like that. I feel... other things.” Arthur said, pointedly avoiding Eames’ eyes. Which left him looking at Eames’ mouth. Which was possibly not the wisest decision. He didn’t even have to look to know he was turning purple. 

“Ah,” Eames said, a universe of understanding in that one sound. 

“Yeah,” Arthur said awkwardly. 

“I have one more question, darling. May I kiss you?”

Arthur let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “You can do more than that, Mr. Eames.” 

He stood swiftly and watched as Eames jumped to his feet. As soon as Eames was also standing, Arthur gathered his courage and kissed the lips he’d been fantasizing about for years. They were plump and soft and opened eagerly beneath his own. Arthur had meant for the kiss to be relatively chaste; a preview, or perhaps an enticement to what he was asking, or offering. The moment Eames’ tongue brushed against his, he lost all sense of propriety. He chased after Eames, licking into his mouth, pressing himself up against the forger’s strong body. 

“Hotel?” Eames gasped as he pulled away momentarily. 

“God yes,” Arthur agreed, throwing money down on the table, far more than their bill likely was. He held out his ungloved hand (purple with a pink paisley pattern) and Eames took it and followed him out of the restaurant.


End file.
